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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904206">Full Dark, No Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicolexoN/pseuds/NicolexoN'>NicolexoN</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:47:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicolexoN/pseuds/NicolexoN</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And Steve? The dumbass had immediately ceased their cuddling and sat up, adamantly stating that he didn’t want to put a 'label' to what they were. He wanted to 'keep having fun' without the pressure of outside opinions and relationship statuses.</p><p>Which is fuckboy speak for 'we’re absolutely fucking nothing outside of secret fuck buddies'.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/T'Challa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Full Dark, No Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>StuCo - Student Council</p><p>The title has literally nothing to do with the story.</p><p>Could spoil some of a book for you; Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When T’Challa opened the email his vice president sent containing popular suggestions for weekday themes, he honestly didn’t know what he expected from his ass clown student body.</p><p> </p><p>“Tequila Tuesday, Whiskey Wednesday, Fireball Friday,” T’Challa mumbled to himself, his annoyance on it’s way to causing a headache this great Monday morning, as he walked down the empty hallway.</p><p> </p><p>Let’s just disregard that the school doesn’t have a liquor license and focus on the fact that all of the students at SHIELD Academy are well under the legal drinking age. What made them think these were <em> legitimate </em>suggestions?</p><p> </p><p>With a sigh, T’Challa stuffed his phone into his back pocket and resigned to coming up with the themes himself. He shuffled the folder from the crook of his arm and flipped it open to review the topics he needed to cover during the morning announcements.</p><p> </p><p>Now, when T’Challa was elected class president, he expected to take on more diplomatic and important tasks. Reminding students every morning to <em> not </em>  smoke in the bathrooms and to <em> not </em>show excessive and inappropriate PDA in the hallway is tedious, annoying and a waste of his time and talents. The only reason he hadn’t quit yet is because his father gave him two choices - student council president or captain in a sport of his choosing.</p><p> </p><p>And that’s his father’s choice of sport - not T’Challa’s. </p><p> </p><p>A lot of things in T’Challa’s life aren’t his choice, but that’s a rant for another time.</p><p> </p><p>“Looking good, Mr. President.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa’s focus left the notes, head turning in the direction of the flirty voice. Brown eyes met blue eyes; T’Challa’s irritation immediately being replaced with intense affection.</p><p> </p><p>Steve Rogers.</p><p> </p><p>SHIELD Academy’s star football player, class clown, most eligible bachelor, and overall nice guy. The boy was virtually invisible in middle school, weighing ninety pounds and not even reaching five foot. </p><p> </p><p>But, come the first day of freshman year, Steve strutted in, head held high, showcasing all six feet, two inches of himself. The man had transformed his boney ninety pounds into two-hundred and ten pounds of pure muscle. And while his height and weight had changed for the better, T’Challa privately noted that his gentle eyes and soft smile stayed the same. </p><p> </p><p>The boy, who’d somehow become a man overnight, had smirked as he walked past the masses, capturing the heart of nearly everyone who laid eyes on him.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, there were two groups of people: those who openly (and <em> desperately </em>, T’Challa adds) worshiped Steve Rogers and those who pretended they weren’t equally as infatuated as their shameless counterparts.</p><p> </p><p>At the time, when the name on everyone’s lips was <em> Steve Rogers, </em>T’Challa was publicly adamant that he was the sole member of a third group: those who don’t give a shit about Steve Rogers.</p><p> </p><p>Privately?</p><p> </p><p>He was the leader of the fucking fan club.</p><p> </p><p>Hear him out!</p><p> </p><p>It would be so easy to despise and ignore the blond adonis if only he wasn’t so damn <em> sweet </em> and <em> genuine </em> . Even T’Challa’s best friend, Sam Wilson (who is very much in a committed relationship), often jokes about risking it all for <em> Steven Grant Rogers </em>.</p><p> </p><p>It should come to no surprise that the only two people who know T’Challa and Steve had been fucking like rabbits since the tail end of the summer past, were the two parties involved.</p><p> </p><p>Call it luck or call it fate, but one Saturday when T’Challa’s little sister had begged him to drive her and a friend to the mall (and then promptly ditched him) was the same day he ran into Steve at the bookstore.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p><em> “ </em> Full Dark, No Stars <em> ?” A voice asked softly from beside him, pulling T’Challa from his intense devouring of the first two pages. He turned to his right, snapping the book closed and got quite the shock when he looked up and locked eyes with Steve Rogers. </em></p><p> </p><p><em> He knew his surprise must have shown on his face, because the taller boy gave him a shy half smile as he bashfully rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “It’s a good read, if you don’t mind the rambling of a man who coerces his son into helping kill his wife and then </em> regrets <em> it so much to the point that he drives himself nuts.” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> T’Challa barely heard what he said, entirely too focused on the way Steve’s cheeks took on an adorable red tint and his biceps strained against his shirt. It wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized the other boy was also wearing a green apron, signaling that he worked there. T’Challa suddenly wanted to write a letter of thanks to whomever decided that white dress shirts would be a part of their uniform, and then he wanted to pen another thank you to whomever knowingly sold Steve a shirt two sizes too small.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>God, Steve’s arms were just too perfect not to throw me over his strong shoulder and take me to bed<em> , T’Challa thought as he gazed up at the unbelievably attractive person in front of him.. </em></p><p> </p><p><em> When Steve’s bashful smile morphed into a leering smirk, T’Challa suddenly realized with horror that </em>he had said that out loud.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ever thankful of his darker complexion, T’Challa felt his face start to drastically heat up and his heart begin to pound violently in his chest. The shorter male shoved the book back on the shelf and turned to flee as quickly as his feet could carry him. Before he could actually get his feet to move, a gentle hand clasped his wrist, stopping his impending impression of an olympic track star. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “It’s time for my break,” Steve said to T’Challa’s back, as the boy hadn’t had the guts to turn and face the other male. “Join me?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And if they spent fifteen minutes getting to know one another and the other fifteen making out in Steve’s truck, that’s totally OK. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> *** </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You should be in class, <em> Steven.” </em> T’Challa said teasingly, stopping in front of the other male.</p><p> </p><p>Steve smirked as he reached a hand out and pulled T’Challa closer by his belt loops. One hand automatically moving to grope the shorter male’s full backside.  “Maybe I wanted to see you.”</p><p> </p><p>If T’Challa’s heart fluttered, he’d never admit it. </p><p> </p><p>You see, as perfect as Steve was, the boy could also be a gigantic asshole. At this point they’d been messing around for nearly four months, taking advantage of every second possible to grope and grind against each other. But, two weekends ago when they had been tangled together in Steve’s bed while his mother worked the late shift at the hospital, T’Challa had made the mistake of asking <em> what are we? </em></p><p> </p><p>And Steve? The dumbass had immediately ceased their cuddling and sat up, adamantly stating that he didn’t want to put a <em> label </em> to what they were. He wanted to <em> keep having fun </em> without the pressure of outside opinions and relationship statuses.</p><p> </p><p>Which is fuckboy speak for <em> we’re absolutely fucking nothing outside of secret fuck buddies. </em></p><p> </p><p>And yeah, it had honestly hurt T’Challa’s feelings but he didn’t want to be <em> too much, too soon </em>, so he let it go and promptly sucked Steve’s dick in apology.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t brought it up again.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa rolled his eyes, pushing playfully at Steve’s firm chest. “I have to do the announcements, you horny bastard.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then let me do you tonight,” the cocky son of a bitch said, leaning down to bite T’Challa’s ear, knowing exactly how much it turned him on.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa inhaled sharply, daming the shiver that ran up his spine. He definitely had a StuCo meeting after school, but he had no problem speeding through it and going to Steve’s house for some afternoon nookie. Right as T’Challa was opening his mouth to agree, the door to the teacher’s lounge banged open and Mr. Coulson stepped out with a stack of essays in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>Steve released T’Challa as if the contact physically burned him and took a step back, their distance from each other leaving nothing up to interpretation. They were just two classmates having a friendly conversation, nothing more.</p><p> </p><p>Irritation and hurt creeped into T’Challa’s heart, thoroughly <em> sick </em> of feeling like a convenient hole for the golden boy to stick his golden cock.</p><p> </p><p>“That pass on Friday was insane, Rogers!” Coulson cheered as he noticed the pair standing together, though not stopping his steps or acknowledging T’Challa.</p><p> </p><p>Steve grinned, giving the man a two-finger salute  - always ready to put on a good face for his fans - before giving his attention back to T’Challa.</p><p> </p><p>The pair stood in tense silence, staring at each other as they waited for Coulsen to be out of earshot. Well, Steve was staring, T’Challa was glaring.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If looks could kill. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Once Coulsen turned down another hallway, Steve reached out for T’Challa, an apologetic expression on his face. “Babe-”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa roughly smacked the hand away, upping the intensity of his glare. “I’m busy tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“No you’re<em> not </em>.” Steve groaned, ranking a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. “You’re just pissed at me.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve took a step closer to T’Challa, intending on peppering every inch of chocolate skin with kisses until he was forgiven. T’Challa shoved at Steve’s chest, stopping him from getting any closer. “I have to do the announcements, Steve.”</p><p> </p><p>And without waiting for a reply, T’Challa turned and stalked away, completely ignoring the whispered hisses of his name.</p><p> </p><p>If Steve wants to keep treating him like a dirty little secret, the jerk isn't going to be getting anymore ass from <em> T’Challa </em> . Let the bastard choose one of his other <em> adoring fans </em>.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“I don’t get why you turned him down.” Sam said for the fifth time in an hour as they walked through the mall, window shopping.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa sighed, looking through the new shirts on display in his favorite clothing store. <em> He </em> didn’t get why Sam couldn’t let it go. </p><p> </p><p>When the pair had walked into the mall, they ran into M’Baku, their school’s linebacker. The man had always been friendly towards T’Challa and Sam. This time, though, he was outwardly flirting with T’Challa and even got the great idea to ask him out on a date.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa had smiled, thanking the man for considering him and made sure to tell M’Baku how flattered he was before turning him down. It was nothing against the other male, he just wasn’t interested in dating him. The longest and most in depth conversation they ever had was about how much M’Baku could bench press.</p><p> </p><p>And it was mostly one sided at that.</p><p> </p><p>No, thank you.</p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t see him that way, Sam.” T’Challa said tightly, trying to push his irritation away. “Let it go.”</p><p> </p><p>The other boy raised an eyebrow at his best friend’s tone, but decided not to push him. Sam shrugged and tossed the shirt he was contemplating (not really) on buying onto the display table. “I’m starving, food court time!”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“And then he tells me ‘I don’t know, you’re the brains in this relationship’.” Sam laughed, sending T’Challa into a fit of giggles with the latest chapter of The Elaborate and Ridiculous Misadventures of Sam and Bucky. </p><p> </p><p>T’Challa always forgot to be <em> jealous </em> of his best friend’s perfect relationship, too genuinely happy that Sam had found his other half in Bucky.</p><p> </p><p>He remembers the exact day they met the man. </p><p> </p><p>He and Sam had ventured to the town over, intending on spending their whole Sunday at the carnival. Halfway through the outing, Sam had dragged him to the basketball games, adamant that he could get a perfect score and would take nothing less than cotton candy as his congratulatory gift from his best friend. T’Challa had laughed, promising the sweet treat as Sam’s prize <em> if </em> he made all the shots.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, Sam missed the last bucket, turning to whine to T’Challa about how the game was <em> rigged </em> and he should <em> still get cotton candy </em> . Before T’Challa could tell him that he would, under no circumstances, be buying cotton candy for a <em> near </em>perfect score, another voice cut in.</p><p> </p><p>“No one likes a sore loser,” the stranger had taunted from the stall beside theirs, sinking the last of his basketballs in the net, then turning to smirk at the pair as the automated voice screeched out ‘<em> Perfect Score! Way to go! </em>’ and began retching a plethora of tickets out.</p><p> </p><p>Sam had glared, competitive steak flaring up, as he turned and shoved more tokens into the machine. “I’ll show you sore loser, asshat!”</p><p> </p><p>And the rest was history, Sam and Bucky spent the rest of the trip taunting and teasing each other, moving from game to game in an attempt to out-do one another. <em> Bucky </em> (“The names James Buchanan Barnes, but call me Bucky so I sound like less of a tool.”) had won almost all of the games, getting his one and only L on the bean bag toss.</p><p> </p><p>Granted, this is only because he couldn’t stop laughing at Sam’s impromptu cheer of:  “B-U-C-K-Y, Bucky, he ain’t got no eye! S-A-M’s the man, if he can’t do it no one can!”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa had been more than happy to wander off and let his best friend fall in love.</p><p> </p><p>He was <em> not </em>, however, willing to share his fries with the bastard. T’Challa swatted at the hand invading his tray,  scowling as Sam still pulled away with a few fries clutched between his greedy fingers. “Hands off, Wilson. If you wanted fries you should have ordered some.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam grinned as he popped the potatoes in his mouth and chewed obnoxiously. “But yours always taste better anyway, ‘Challa.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa rolled his eyes, scooting his tray as far away from Sam as he could. He stuffed his mouth and viciously chopped on his fries; vowing to choke on them before he’d let Sam take anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, <em> bless us. </em>” Sam suddenly  sighed dreamily, gazing behind T’Challa. “That is a fine specimen there.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa froze, knowing had Sam been talking about <em> his boyfriend </em> , the expression on his face would have been of feigned disgust. There’s only one person his best friend got all starry-eyed over and T’Challa was <em> not </em> willing to converse with that jerk.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s coming straight at us, what the <em> fuck </em> .” Sam whispered in alarm, eyes going wide at the prospect of being acknowledged by <em> the </em>Steve Rogers. The boy even went the extra mile and dabbed at his mouth, sat up straight, and smoothed his shirt down.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa scoffed, wondering if he should threaten to tell Bucky that Sam was fan-boying over another guy. Instead of dwelling on that, T’Challa swallowed his full mouth right as Steve stopped beside their table.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Sam.” Steve greeted, giving one of his patented grins to the other boy as he placed a hand on the back of T’Challa’s chair. “Would you mind giving me and T’Challa a second?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam, who had begun smiling as wide as his mouth would allow at the direct greeting from <em> Steven Grant Rogers, </em> nodded with enthusiasm and began getting up from his seat. “I wanted to go buy some fries anyway, here take my seat.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa glared as his best friend happily stood up and gestured to his seat for Steve to take. If he wanted to talk to Steve, he would have answered his many texts and calls over the last two days. </p><p> </p><p>Since he <em> hadn’t </em> answered, one would assume he didn’t want to talk to the person who treats him like he’s nothing more than a warm place to shove his dick. He shouldered Steve’s hand off of the back of his seat and locked his best friend in place with an intense stare.</p><p> </p><p>“Do not leave, Samuel.” He said, folding his arms. “Steven and I don’t have anything to talk about.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam gave his best friend a confused look back, not entirely sure why <em> he </em> was getting first-named when he hadn’t done anything. But when Steve gave him a patient smile and motioned to continue on his quest for fries, he quickly got the fuck out of dodge.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa huffed and sat back heavily in his chair as Steve moved to occupy Sam’s now empty seat. The blond regarded the other boy with a <em> sad </em> expression. </p><p> </p><p>Oh, he has <em> some </em>nerve.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been ignoring me.” </p><p> </p><p>T’Challa glared into baby blue orbs, cursing himself for immediately thinking about how dreamy and sparkly Steve’s eyes looked in this light. He sat up straight, reaching for a fry in lieu of a response.</p><p> </p><p>He popped a single ketchup-covered potato into his mouth, looking off to the side, intent on ignoring Steve some more since he wants to be Captain Fucking Obvious.</p><p> </p><p>The quarterback sighed and leaned back in his seat. “So you’re just not going to talk to me?”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa clenched his jaw, wanting nothing more than to fall into Steve’s strong arms and <em> publicly </em> be claimed as the boy’s boyfriend. Steve obviously wasn’t going to do that, so T’Challa <em> wouldn’t </em>do this to himself.</p><p> </p><p>“If I’m not on my back or my knees you have <em> no </em> interest in me, Steven.” He finally spoke, still avoiding eye contact with the other male. “So let’s just end this.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not <em> fucking true,” </em> Steve hissed with such conviction that T’Challa almost believed him. <em> Almost </em>.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa swallowed the sudden emotion threatening to come up and took a deep breath. “You won’t touch me with anyone around to witness, you’ve never asked me on a date and the only thing we actually do together is have sex.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Look at me </em>,” Steve barked at him, causing a young mother to glance at them from three tables away.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa gave her a tight, apologetic smile, hoping it conveyed <em> sorry for the disturbance </em> and <em> mind your business, lady. </em></p><p> </p><p>To avoid causing a scene, T’Challa reluctantly turned his head to face Steve. “Whether I’m looking at you or not doesn’t change the fact that I’m telling the truth.”</p><p> </p><p>Behind the blond’s shoulder, T’Challa could very clearly see his best friend attempting to hide behind a pillar as he stuffed fries into his mouth and watched them from afar.</p><p> </p><p><em> That </em> almost caused T’Challa to snort from the ridiculousness of his best friend’s antics.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want me to do?” Steve seethed, snapping T’Challa’s full attention back to him. “Scream at the top of my lungs that you’re my guy?”</p><p> </p><p>And if T’Challa was one for dramatics he'd either snatch up his drink and pour it on Steve’s head or lean over and slap the taste out of his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> No </em> ,” he hissed at the blond. “You’d only be doing it <em> because you upset me </em> , not because you <em> want </em> to. That’s fucking <em> worse </em>, asshole.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve groaned, slapping a hand on the table top, causing T’Challa to flinch in surprise and also captured the attention of the young mother again who quickly began gathering her child and trash to leave the general vicinity.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what you fucking want from me, T’Challa.”</p><p> </p><p>God, yes he fucking <em> did </em>. </p><p> </p><p>T’Challa wants the other boy to <em> want </em>to claim him. Not because T’Challa’s upset or because Steve’s stuck doing the knuckle shuffle.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa wants Steve to want <em> him </em>. </p><p> </p><p>The dark skinned boy noticed M’Baku walking across the food court, soon to be close enough for T’Challa to grab his attention. Now, before you get all pissy, T’Challa is very aware that what he’s about to do is top tier shitty.</p><p> </p><p>He glared right into blue eyes, expression blank and tone flat. “I don’t want anything from you anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve sputtered, anger at being dismissed leaving him unable to speak.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa turned his head and plastered on a sultry smile before calling out to his prey. “M’Baku!”</p><p> </p><p>The behemoth of a boy stopped in his tracks, looking in the direction his name had come from. He grinned when he laid eyes on T’Challa and immediately took long strides to the table.</p><p> </p><p>“What can I do for you, sexy?” He leered at T’Challa, ignoring his teammate entirely.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa smirked and rested his head on his hand, giving M’Baku a once over. “You still want to take me on a date?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> T’Challa </em>.” Steve hissed, expression displaying his rage.</p><p> </p><p>“Hell yeah.” M’Baku grinned, whipping his phone out to take down T’Challa’s phone number.</p><p> </p><p>Once the linebacker got the number input, he promised to text him later that night to set their plans for the coming weekend and then winked at T’Challa before taking off.</p><p> </p><p>The pair sat in silence, one vibrating with anger and the other nonchalantly eating his fries.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not going on a date with him.” Steve said tightly, hand balled into a fist as it rested on the table.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa finished the last of his fries and slowly wrapped his lips around the straw of his drink. He maintained eye contact with Steve as he sucked down the last of the Coke from his cup, expression not giving away anything he might be thinking.</p><p> </p><p>He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and tossed it down on his tray, moving from his seat and scooping up his tray. “Goodbye, Steven.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em> How was your date? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa scoffed at the text message from Steve as he exited the front office after delivering the morning announcements the following Monday.</p><p> </p><p>Even though the date was fucking terrible and M’Baku only got fifteen minutes into the movie before reaching over to grip his thigh, it’s <em> none of Steve’s business. </em></p><p> </p><p>He locked his phone screen and shoved it into his back pocket, refusing to engage.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you fuck him?”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa gasped at the unexpected voice, whipping  around to see Steve leaning against the lockers to the side of the front office, and placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart.</p><p> </p><p>He scowled at Steve as he gathered his wits and turned back around to continue on his way to his first period. Rapid footsteps padded against the hallway floor as Steve came to fall in step with T’Challa.</p><p> </p><p>“So you did.” The anger and <em> judgement </em> in the boy’s tone was enough for T’Challa to stop and speak.</p><p> </p><p>“And what if I did, huh?” T’Challa snarled, taking a step into Steve’s space to taunt him in the empty hallway. “Do you want to know how <em> big </em> he is?”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa reached out and shoved the middle of Steve’s chest. “Or how he fucked me so good I couldn’t walk straight the next day?”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa took pleasure in Steve’s livid expression. Even though he hadn’t even <em> kissed </em> M’Baku at the end of their date, he didn't care what Steve thought they did. It serves him right for asking questions he had no right to ask. If he didn’t want to see T’Challa with someone else then he should have <em> done something about it when he had the fucking chance </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Stop, </em>” Steve spat, face burning a furious red as he took a step back to put space between them. </p><p> </p><p>T’Challa laughed a cruel laugh before spinning on his heels to leave the other boy with his misconceptions. </p><p> </p><p>“Go fuck yourself,” He called over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“I’ve held off for as long as I could.” Sam announced as he plopped onto the grass next to T’Challa in gym class later that day</p><p> </p><p>He had wondered briefly why Sam had been MIA the first half of class, but put it out of his mind as Coach Fury had started barking orders.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa barely restrained himself from groaning outright, knowing exactly what the other boy was referring to with his statement. He closed his eyes, hoping this would dissuade any conversation.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“So how long have you been fucking Steve Rogers?” Sam asked, laying back and folding his arms behind his head.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa’s eyes snapped open in shock as he twisted to face his best friend. Sure, he expected Sam to assume he and Steve were <em> flirting </em> or even secretly dating, but him going straight to <em> fucking </em> threw T’Challa off balance.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you assume we’re sleeping together and not just becoming friends?” He asked, hoping his voice sounded less panicked than he felt.</p><p> </p><p>Sam <em> hmm </em>’d, eyes closed, and looking very serene. For a few moments they said nothing and T’Challa was glad the subject had apparently been dropped.</p><p> </p><p>As open as he and Sam were with each other, T’Challa will admit to being so ashamed about his false-indifference towards Steve when he knew Sam wouldn’t have judged him anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“Another question - more of a statement since you didn’t answer my last question,” Sam said, eyes still closed as he further relaxed into the grass.</p><p> </p><p>“You went on a date with M’Baku to make Steve jealous.” No judgment, no disgust. Just a statement.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa sat up, then. He sighed as he contemplated lying through his teeth, but figured he owned Sam more than that.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he said reluctantly, biting his lip from nervousness and dropping his eyes to the grass in front of him. “It didn’t even work.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam <em> hmm </em>’d again, but stayed silent for a long moment.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually he sat up, crossed his legs and faced T’Challa.</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t keep things from each other,” he said firmly, crossing his arms. “You keep me in the loop, punk.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa looked down, twiddling his thumbs, blinking back tears of relief. “I was embarrassed, Sammy.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam snorted, knowing the nickname was a cheap shot but also a testament to how sorry the other boy was. “Embarrassed about bagging <em> Steve fucking Rogers? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t <em> bag </em> him,” T’Challa said bitterly, starting to pick at the patch of grass in front of him. “He only wanted me for sex and I got sick of feeling like he was ashamed of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think he cares about you a lot more than you think,” Sam said in an ominous tone. He leaned back on his arms, stretched his legs out and tapped a sneaker-clad toe against T’Challa’s knee.</p><p> </p><p>The other boy looked up reluctantly to the sight of his best friend grinning at him. “Why else did he just whoop M’Baku’s ass in the cafeteria?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?!” T’Challa screeched, eyes nearly bugging out of his sockets.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>T’Challa slid into the nurse’s office and closed the door quietly behind him. </p><p> </p><p>It had been a <em> pain </em> getting Sam to agree to distract Nurse Hill while T’Challa tip-toed past her. But, having to take Sam out to eat at Cheesecake Factory was a small price to pay, in his opinion.</p><p> </p><p>He gazed at the overgrown man-child laying back on the bed, ice pack resting on his cheek as he stared out of the window.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you OK?” He asked quietly, not wanting to startle the injured teen.</p><p> </p><p>Steve jumped in surprise still and turned his head towards the voice in the once silent room.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa got a good look at the extent of his injuries; Steve had a split lip, a bruised cheek, a cut near his eyebrow and severely bruised knuckles.</p><p> </p><p>The blond glared at him and turned his head back towards the window. “Shouldn’t you be checking on your <em> boyfriend? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a boyfriend, Steven,” T’Challa answered simply, moving to sit in the chair next to the occupied bed. “But I already checked on M’Baku, he wants you to join the boxing team.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa chuckled slightly as he relayed the request that came from M’Baku himself, having been thoroughly amused with his visit to the larger teen. </p><p> </p><p>M’Baku had no hard feelings, having already understood that T’Challa was into Steve even before their date. He laughed as he re-told the entire situation leading to their brawl, admitting that he purposefully egged Steve on by making some <em> comments </em> regarding T’Challa and his body.</p><p> </p><p>He was also quick to admit that Steve would have probably beat him bloody if some of the other football guys hadn’t pulled him off. M’Baku demanded that T’Challa get him to agree to joining the boxing club as his apology for leading him on.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa had laughed with the larger teen, thanked him for being so understanding and kissed his cheek. While the boy had been dazed from the action, he still made sure to offer a <em> shoulder to cry on </em> if things didn’t work out with Steve. </p><p> </p><p>When Steve didn’t respond, T’Challa sighed and reached a hand out to rest on his bicep. “I didn’t sleep with him.”</p><p> </p><p>This got the other boy’s attention, his head turning back to face T’Challa. “Then why-“</p><p> </p><p>“I was upset,” T’Challa admitted, focusing on his thumb as it began caressing Steve’s arm. “I wanted to hurt you so I lied.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well it worked,” Steve grumbled as he averted his eyes and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa sat  back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. He looked up at Steve, noting that those blue eyes still caused his heart to skip a beat. “I shouldn’t have lied, and for that I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>When Steve didn’t say anything else, T’Challa took that as his cue to leave. “I just wanted to see if you were alright, I’ll let you rest.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa stood up from his chair and took one step before Steve reached out and clasped his wrist in a gentle hold. He didn’t turn around, knowing his face looked extremely hopeful.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry too,” Steve mumbled, sounding uncomfortable enough that T’Challa didn’t even need to be looking at him to know the blond’s face was scrunched up in displeasure.</p><p> </p><p>With a deep breath, T’Challa turned to face the quarterback, not breaking the hold on his wrist. “What’re you sorry <em> for </em>, Steve?”</p><p> </p><p>The boy, in lieu of a response, pulled T’Challa into the spread V of his legs and wrapped both arms around his slim waist, face buried into the soft skin of T’Challa’s neck.</p><p> </p><p>They stood in silence, T’Challa sure that Steve could feel his heart beating rapidly from when his face was pressed against his neck.</p><p> </p><p>He mumbled something unintelligible, lips grazing sensitive skin and breath tickling.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa’s hands began to run light caresses up and down Steve’s broad back. “I can’t understand you, Steve.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy let out a huff, tightening the hold on T’Challa’s waist for a moment before pulling back just enough to allow his speech to be understandable. “<em> I’m </em> your boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa’s heart attempted to leap out of his chest in happiness and he chuckled softly. His hands moved from Steve’s back to cup the boy’s cheeks and force him to look up. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you asking me or telling me, Steven?” He raised an amused eyebrow at Steve’s blushing cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Both.” He said shyly, gaze leaving T’Challa’s eyes and flickering down to his lips briefly.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa knew they had more to talk about but right now he and Steve had some making up to do, that could wait.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss <em> his boyfriend </em>, heart undoubtedly exploding in glee as their lips met.</p><p> </p><p>And when Nurse Hill kicked the door open, shouting that Steve needed to <em> rest </em> , that T’Challa shouldn’t even be <em> back here </em> and the morning announcements already told them to keep the PDA to a minimum, the boyfriends burst into laughter.</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa was also pleased to note that Steve did not stop holding him. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'll take "What is Editing" for $300, Alex.</p><p>Let me know what you think in the comments!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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